If Diwali is not just about cleaning, shopping and food, can it be a celebration…

Lacking Ma’s talent, I outsource my Diwali mithai needs — the fine boondi laddoos my son adores, kaju katli, my daughter’s favourite, fields of lush milk cake and creamy kalakand, baby rasgullas and kala jamuns — tiny mouthfuls of joy… Research has proven that sweets eaten for Diwali can only benefit the body, mind and spirit of the eater. (These test results are obviously invalid for uber fancy chocolates made with matcha and sophisticated/healthy mithai imposters that substitute sugar with dates and use forgotten grains like millets and plywood). If like me, you make, buy and eat every sweet your heart desires on Diwali, know this: what we are celebrating is neither gluttony nor poor impulse control but the abundance and true spirit of Diwali.

As kids, we all got new clothes for Diwali. Ma would always unveil something lovely for us to wear which she would have spent weeks slaving over. One Diwali, though, the dress she pulled out for me was a perfect fit for my eldest sister, who is six years older. Basically, her inner economist won over her outer tailor; her logic was that since she was making such an effort and using such lovely fabric; all three of her daughters might as well get good wear out of the dress, not just the youngest. That Diwali, I was more safety pins than girl, because there really wasn’t another new dress I could slip on. I remember all three of us shed copious tears that day — mine were of sorrow while my sisters wept as they held their sides laughing. Needless to say, I have never ever worn anything that requires safety pins any Diwali since.

If like me, you make, buy and eat every sweet your heart desires on Diwali, know this: what we are celebrating is neither gluttony nor poor impulse control but the abundance and true spirit of Diwali (Credit: Illustration: Komal)

Diwali melas in our childhood in the Bronze Age were where we went to see trained dogs execute amazing tricks of obedience and smarts, to eat all the street food we could stuff our faces with, then binge on the free samples of the chooran sellers, to buy some tacky trinkets and to see our mothers buy a magic knife or tomato slicer whose magic consisted of it working unbelievably at the mela but never even once at home. The Diwali melas of my later years have been way more sophisticated and my excitement at going to them has never waned. For years, I have bought all my Diwali gifts (potted plants and diyas!) at the melas, browsed stall after stall of amazing stuff for the home, stumbled upon the sweetest little things for the kids and binged on all the food on offer. Diwali melas are part of the whole charm of Diwali and unlike the knives my mother used to buy, the magic never fades.

I love how pretty everyone’s home looks, with colourful rangolis, lit up with diyas and candles on Diwali. As children, we used to grind up rice and use that paste to make the feet of Goddess Lakshmi entering our homes. My kids made their own startlingly untraditional, though beautiful, rangolis to decorate our home — over the years dinosaurs, basketball and boy bands have appeared alongside the feet of the Goddess. I love lighting the lamps and candles in my own home, dressing up and seeing everyone resplendent in their beautiful Diwali clothes. I’m not a great one for religious rituals but there is something simple and meaningful about the puja we do for Diwali — the puja platter scattered with puffed rice, sugar animals, mithai and shiny silver coins — with tiny gifts for everyone. And of course, I love the food we eat on Diwali day — puri, potatoes, sweet and tart pumpkin, boondi raita, a dark rich mutton curry, kheer and halwa.

Diwali is all this — the cleaning and cleansing, the shopping and the gifting, homecoming and family. But it’s also so much more — a celebration of generosity and joy, about letting go of sorrow or resentment that no longer serve us, about renewal and rejuvenation and most of all, an occasion to pause and feel gratitude for the life we have and for the part that everyone plays in it. Any festival that allows me to do that while eating sweets non-stop is a festival I can truly, gloriously, absolutely get behind.

Happy Diwali to you all.

Vatsala Mamgain loves food, cooking, running, trees, reading and telling long-winded stories